Delicious Expeditions

Most parents are proud, as well as quite relieved, when their child succeeds as an individual. These feelings are no different when that child is a baboon (I mean this literally, not figuratively). I left Betty and Malawi over a month ago with an agonizing sense of guilt. Did I really teach her any life skills? Leaning to crack peanuts was one of our favorite activities, but unless she was planning to move to a peanut farm in Georgia, she was out of luck–peanuts are not indigenous to the African bush. But then again, at some point in her life, there would be other shells or husks to force open.

Betty still loves Bananas

On the long flight home I asked myself some hard questions. Was our time together more about me than her? What would happen if the awaiting baboon family didn’t accept her? Would I want to know the truth, or prefer to envision the fantasy world I had created, where her days would be spent in the sun surrounded by attentive admirers fighting over grooming privileges. In another scenario I would return to Malawi where she would run into my arms, squeaking in delight, her claws carefully tucked in and her powerful jaw only used for kisses.

Blond Betty with Surrogate Mother Ida

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“The black mamba was eye level with the passengers in my car. It was looking inside the open window, balanced on its tail, serpent tongue flickering in the sun,” George said when it was his turn to tell his best safari story. “I didn’t see the snake when I pulled to a stop on the dusty, dirt road, but when a long, narrow, dark figure jumped straight up in the air I shouted for the passengers to stay still, not to move an inch or even take a deep breath. The deadly mamba would attack at the slightest move. It stayed there for about 15 minutes, before lying down and crawling back into the bush. It was the longest 15 minutes of my life.”

“Luckily, the last time I saw a black mamba on the road,” Peter, the thin, bald African man on my left chimed in, “I was able to shout for the passengers to roll up their windows just before it stood up.”

Giraffes & Zebras

I was getting jittery with all the animal stories, but it had been my idea after all, so I had to stay and listen to tales that would become animated nightmares as soon as I went to sleep. I was on safari again, this time in Zambia, at Luangwe National Park, one of the most spectacular in Africa.

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The drive to Lake Malawi wasn’t very long, but with the intense sun and vast amounts of dust blowing through the open car windows, I couldn’t wait to get there. A barren land of mud huts, with thatched reed roofs, and scattered goats, stretched out in front of me. Bicycles, cows, chickens and pedestrians, carrying everything from sugar cane to buckets of charcoal, balanced perfectly on their heads, flashed before me as we made our way to Africa’s third largest lake.

Thatched-roof village

Even though the scenery was fascinating and new to my sight and senses, I focused instead on storefront signage as we drove through various villages. The first tiny, urban space we passed was home to the “I Like Beer” bar, standing next to the “Beautiful Head” beauty salon, which happened to be across from the town’s coffin store. Another 20 minutes down the road was a line of buildings featuring “Uncle Joe’s Investments” and “You like my Price” grocery (most likely owned by Uncle Joe), located next to another coffin maker, his crew busy assembling a set of simple, brown wooden boxes for display.

Malawian storefronts

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I came to a crossroad this past weekend when asked if I wanted an ensuite bathroom at the Mvuu Lodge campsite in Liwonde National Park–Malawi’s largest and most important, renowned for its large herds of wild elephants. I debated for a long time, not wanting to spend the money, but I was tempted by the thought of my own private bathroom after weeks of sharing with an entire family. Even though I knew it was a self-centered, needless luxury I decided to splurge on my weekend safari.

It was a decision I would not regret. A decision which proved I had learned at least a few lessons in life.

Entrance to Mvuu Logde

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Roadside Sugar Cane

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Lilongwe Old Town

Anxious to get started, I’ve decided to take Betty on as my first client (see Baby Baboon Love for full story). Through astute observation, I’ve noticed that she’s not particularly fond of being a baboon and prefers human contact (which isn’t necessarily good) to stinky, hairy animals. I want to give her every opportunity in life, like any good mother, so if the baboon in the bush thing doesn’t work out, I’m prepared to set her up in her own spa business.

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I feel in love on my first day of work in Malawi. It was love at first sight just like in the movies. With just one glance I knew I would always love Betty—a 3 month old orphaned  baboon at the animal center.

Betty's Beauty Shot

On my second day of work I offered to feed Betty, not believing that the other volunteers  weren’t  lined up begging for the task. I watched Henry, one of the animal carers, prepare her special diet: hot water, powdered milk and a banana, all mashed together, then placed on a small, plastic green plate. The meals I prepare are usually a little more complicated, so I assured Henry I could handle the multiple feedings, adding a chopped boiled egg once a day for protein.

Betty at Breakfast

Unfortunately Betty had a traumatic youth (if you can say that about someone 3 months old). Her mother was killed for bush meat and she was taken to be sold in the illegal animal trade. Luckily, she was saved somewhere along the way and brought to the animal center when she was about  a month old. At that age baboons have to be hand raised or they will die, so Betty lived with a local woman where she was looked after 24 hrs. a day.

Relaxing after lunch

When I arrived at the center Betty had just been placed with a surrogate baboon mother, Ida, who took her job seriously reaching for the baby, but Betty wasn’t interested. She still thought she was human and didn’t like a big baboon in her enclosure. I’m entering the picture at this difficult transitional phase.

I think Betty also experienced our great bond. When I fed her for the first time  she nestled herself into my lap and went to sleep, wiping her dirty, little banana mouth all over my pants before dozing off. Henry said she had never done this with anyone before.

A very tired baby baboon

ps—Betty will eventually grow into her Dr. Spock ears.

In order to start a fire the following procedure can be followed:

-Collect tinder
-Light tinder and place kindling on top
-Add on twigs, forming a “tepee”
-If needed, blow at base of the tinder
-Start adding firewood and build up when first piece catches

I begin to panic after reading these instructions in the Lilongwe Wildlife Centre volunteer manual. How am I going to eat for a month in Africa using only fire? I’ve never really spent much time in the great outdoors, so even though I know my way around a professional stove, the transition to Queen of the Campfire isn’t going to be easy.

In anticipation of my month of potential starvation in the bush, I decide a few days of South African food and wine is a necessity before setting out on my Malawi adventure. Taking a little detour, I have the good fortune to be invited to Franschhoek, in the nearby wine country, as the guest of a local vineyard owner and tour operator. A friend of a friend, Wendy of Wineland Experiences shows me why her town has achieved culinary fame. For the past 10 years the country’s best chefs have flocked to this area making it the Napa Valley of the African continent.

Franschhoek Vineyard

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